Saving God
by DavidTennantIsMyGod
Summary: Crowley finds a side he never thought he had. Crowley/Aziraphale slash.
1. Chapter 1

1

They were at the pond feeding the ducks, just like most days.

Crowley had found it a little harder than normal to sober up that morning. He and Aziraphale had gone back to the bookstore and drunk themselves silly. Of course, that was perfectly acceptable, what with them having averted Armageddon and all.

The long, lithe demon leaned lazily against a trash bin, watching the angel throw bits of a new- bought bread loaf to the slightly shifty- looking ducks. Aziraphale turned and smiled warmly at Crowley, and the demon's stomach did a sort of flop. He blushed and looked away.

"What's wrong, dear?" Aziraphale asked, coming toward him with that concerned look on his face. Crowley's face flushed again at the angel's customary endearment to everyone he knew. "Nothing."

"I know it's not nothing," the Principality said seriously. "I mean, we just saved the world. You must be feeling something. Is that it? Are you feeling confused?"

"Well, yeah," Crowley muttered. "I'm extremely confused. And I'm glad the world is saved. But that's not what I'm confused about." He looked up at Aziraphale now, his eyes young and questioning, his sunglasses slipped down his nose just enough.

Aziraphale stared deep and long into his friend's yellow irises, then grabbed Crowley's arm and began to drag him off. "Where are we going?" Crowley said, wrenching his arm away.

"You need to just sit down and talk for a little," the angel said firmly. "If you don't get whatever you need to out, then you'll feel miserable even on this wonderful day. And if you're miserable, then I'm miserable."

Crowley gave up, and let himself be dragged into one of those coffee shops Aziraphale visited regularly but one that the demon would never be caught dead in.

Aziraphale sat him down at the back table and went to order their drinks. The angel came back with two steaming mugs of basic coffee. Crowley wished his cup espresso.

"So," Aziraphale said after they had sipped their coffee for a while, "What's wrong?"

"Everything," admitted Crowley. "I'm just so uncertain now. We've both gone against our superiors, and somehow we haven't been blasted off the face of this worrying little planet. We've stopped the biggest event in the history of the Earth, and yet we're sitting here drinking coffee. My Bentley's back good as new, you've got your books back, and the whole world is at peace. I should be the happiest demon alive. Well, no I shouldn't, I shouldn't be happy at all."

"But you love this world," the angel said reasonably, "You never wanted to see it destroyed."

"I should be furious!" Crowley hissed, pounding the table with his fist and leaving a scorch mark. Aziraphale quickly wished it away. "I should be being severely punished! I just stopped the thing my side's been waiting for forever!"

"And I did the same thing," Aziraphale said in a quiet voice, "My side wanted it as much as yours. But we're different. We know the world and the human culture better. We've grown to care for it. We had things we would miss."

Crowley seemed to deflate a little in his seat. With that uncomfortable stomach lurch again, he watched the angel brush his golden hair out of his brilliant blue eyes.

"But you said that wasn't all you were confused about," Aziraphale said, suddenly businesslike. "What else is there?"

Crowley looked at the middle- aged angel and wondered what he should say. That last night when they had both been completely wasted he had looked over at his best friend and thought how beautiful he really was? That every time the angel called him dear he felt as if he would do anything to hear it again? No. That wasn't an option. He was a demon. Aziraphale was an angel. Demons did not love. Angels loved everything the same.

Crowley stared sadly into Aziraphale's eyes, and ran out the door.

Aziraphale sat at the table, rather shocked. Crowley had never just run out like that. Crowley was the rock to his rather swaying choices. But the look that had been in his old friend's reptilian eyes was ancient, and heart- wrenching. It was a look of despair, and the angel knew he had to find out what it was. Because he couldn't let his Crowley hurt like that without the angel being there to comfort him.

He buried his face in his hands and groaned softly. He'd done it again. Ever since Saturday, he would accidentally think of Crowley as _his Crowley_. He had to stop doing that. It just gave him false hope. He knew that the demon would never consider him as more than an acquaintance.

Aziraphale had gotten this silly notion* roughly eleven years ago, when Crowley had first told him of his delivery of Adam. The angel had got to thinking about all the things he would miss. His list went so:

_His books. From his least favorite to his prized collection of misprinted Bibles._

_Food._

_Wine._

_Coffee shops._

_Music._

_Sweater vests._

_(And though he didn't want to admit it, and especially not the fact that this point should go under number one, he would miss) Crowley._

Because, after those six millennia, it had taken the fact that he would lose his friend forever to jolt him awake to the reality that he loved Crowley. Not in the way that angels were supposed to love everything. He loved the demon in a burning sense that angels should not really ever experience. It was dirty, it was unrequited, and it was impossible. Aziraphale told himself that every morning, but that little annoying voice in the back of his head kept telling him that maybe God wasn't against it.

And Aziraphale's rationally thinking mind would reject that idea quickly. _Of course he'd be against it,_ he argued with himself,_ good G- Someone, I'm an angel! And anyway, it's not like Crowley would ever want to. If I told him, I would probably lose him forever. And it's better to just keep him as a friend than tell him my true feelings and never talk to him again._

But the little voice kept piping up, and every day, Aziraphale would argue with less and less rancor.

Aziraphale drained what was left of his coffee and sadly paid the bill. The angel shuffled outside to find the Bentley gone. _As I thought,_ he said to himself. But he couldn't keep the slight pout off his face.

Crowley angrily brushed away the tears- _tears!-_ that were trickling slowly down his face. He never cried. He couldn't believe what had gotten into him. He had actually been considering telling the angel. _You can't, _he thought furiously, _ever! Because if you do, you'll lose him, and then you'll probably be sentenced to torture. _He huddled over the steering wheel of the Bentley, pulling himself together. He swallowed and looked up, through the glass of his window and into the coffee shop where Aziraphale was still sitting.

Crowley looked away, started the car, and rammed a tape at random into the cassette player.

Jesse McCartney crooned away at him. _I shouldn't love you but I want to, I just can't turn away…_

Crowley groaned and closed his eyes, taking off his sunglasses and rubbing his temples. The Bentley had a way of making you irritable. He didn't even know he owned any Jesse McCartney music.

But what the lyrics were saying was true. _There's so much I can't say. Do you want me to hide the feelings and look the other way?_

Crowley had to, so he could keep his angel safe. And that was what mattered to him most.

_I'm wondering why I've waited so long. Looking back I realize it was always there just never spoken._

He hit the Bentley cassette player so hard the tape flew to the back seat and sizzled slightly. Breathing hard, he pulled up to the curb and stormed inside his apartment, nearly knocking the old lady downstairs over.

Slamming the door to his flat, he steamrollered over to his untouched bedroom and lay on top of the covers, fuming. Eventually he fell asleep, just missing the call to his home line from Aziraphale, who left a hesitant message about getting together for lunch at the Ritz tomorrow.

It was a bright, sunny morning, so opposite from Crowley's mood that he felt like shouting at the clear blue sky. He satisfied himself with vigorously kicking one of his plants on the way to the kitchen.

His ansaphone message light was beeping, and he stabbed at it, sitting down at the table, his face in his hands.

"Erm, hello," said a rather awkward sounding angel, "I was wonder, er, I mean, after all that, if you still wanted to, erm, get together for lunch at the Ritz today. So, yes, uh, hope to see you there…." _Beep_ "End of message."

For the few moments that Aziraphale's voice had issued from the answering machine, Crowley had sat stock still, not even breathing. His unneeded heart beating wildly, he picked up his land line and slowly dialed his friend's number. He held the phone to his ear.

It rang thrice, and by the third time Crowley's hands were sweating much more than they needed. _If the angel doesn't hurry up and pick up the phone, _Crowley thought darkly, _I might just_-

"Hello?"

Crowley shot upright. "Uh," he replied intelligently, "Hi, Zira. Do you still want to do lunch?"

Crowley couldn't tell, but the angel blushed crimson. "Of course. How about, oh, let's say, one? It's roughly eleven thirty right now."

Crowley gave what Aziraphale thought was an affirmative grunt and hung up. The angel sat back in his comfortable chair and sighed. It would be a long wait till lunch.

So in the meantime, Aziraphale began to pick out which sweater vest he would wear that day.

*The accidental pet- name- thingamagog. Not the fact that Crowley was his acquaintance.


	2. Chapter 2

2

The morning had gone downhill from there. Grey clouds now covered the sun, and a slight drizzle was beginning to fall. Aziraphale was starting to wonder if Crowley's grunt had been a no.

Finally the Bentley careened into the curb, and Crowley jumped out, his cheeks reddening only a little at the sight of the angel waiting for him, tapping his foot impatiently. "Sorry 'bout that," he said gruffly. "I couldn't seem to force myself out of bed."

At this the angel just looked amused. "You don't even need sleep, dear," he scolded, pulling Crowley inside. "You're just using that as an excuse."

Crowley grinned. "Well, yeah, I am, angel," he chuckled, "But sleeping really is so comfortable. You should try it some time. Of all the people in this world, I believe you would appreciate it the most. Over here, this table."

Crowley steered Aziraphale away from a rather austere- looking tableful of old women, who were eying them severely. Crowley spilled their tea with a gesture of his hand and thought at them viciously,_ No, we're not a couple._ His mind took a hidden turn. _Yet._

He stopped in the aisle and shook his head vigorously. _Bad Crowley!_ He screamed at himself. _Shut up your mind!_

"Are you quite all right, dear?"

Crowley's whole body relaxed as Aziraphale put his hand on the demon's arm. "Yeah," he replied quietly, "I'm fine."

They sat at a table and ordered wine and some pastries. Crowley kept avoiding the angel's eyes, to the point that Aziraphale was really starting to worry.

They sipped their drinks in silence, Crowley drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the wooden table.

"I'm sorry," he said abruptly. "About yesterday. I'm just, very stressed out at the moment. I shouldn't have done that."

Aziraphale's heart melted. "It's fine." He smiled. "I understand. It's going to be difficult to talk about anything. There are only three beings left in the world now who actually knows what happened on Saturday."

"And they would be?" Crowley inquired, looking over his sunglasses and raising an eyebrow.

"You, me, and Adam. He wiped everyone else's memories."

"Well, aren't we the lucky ones," Crowley grumbled slightly. "We get to remember why our superiors hate us so much right now." He looked over Aziraphale's shoulder, a bright color catching his eye. Suddenly his face lit up.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked, confused. "What's going on?"

"LINDSEY!" Crowley called, bounding across the room and hugging a teenaged girl tightly. He dragged her over to their table.

"Hello!" the girl said brightly. She was tall, with long brown wavy hair and big eyes. "I'm Lindsey. You must be Aziraphale!" she shook the angel's hand enthusiastically.

"How do you know who I am?" Aziraphale said coldly.

Her smile stayed put. "Of course I know who you are! With Crowley it's always 'Aziraphale this,' and 'Aziraphale that,' and 'Aziraphale thinks that,' and 'Aziraphale hates,' and- but I'm blabbering, don't listen to me, I'm so glad to finally meet you!"

Aziraphale was a little taken aback. He looked at Crowley and found his friend determinedly looking away, his cheeks flushed. "Did you really?" the angel said quietly, for the demon's ears only. Crowley face just reddened some more.

"How do you know Lindsey?" he asked louder, gesturing for the girl to sit. She did, and stared at them, beaming.

"She got me out of a tight spot three years ago." Crowley explained. "I was out on- business- and the police got me. Thought I was doing something wrong. Said they had orders to kill me on sight. She distracted them, and I got away. Of course, she followed me, and I got to know her."

_Inconveniently discorporated,_ Aziraphale thought at Crowley, who smirked.

"He also helped me," Lindsey said, "My parents were extremely abusive. But he called Child Abuse on them for me, and I was sent to a foster home. It's been so much better since."

"Oh yes, how's your little brother Wilfred?" Crowley asked, taking another drink of wine.

"He's WONDERFUL," Lindsey gushed. "He just turned two a month ago, and he's now crawling around everywhere and eating the bedcurtains and acting the perfect _baby_."

Aziraphale smiled at the girl. She was nice, charismatic, and completely not Crowley's type. He also couldn't help feeling a little jealous. He wondered how they got along so well. When his friend looked at Lindsey, he exuded a feeling not unlike fatherness. Aziraphale would never have thought Crowley able of that.

"How was your weekend?" Lindsey asked, jerking the angel back into the conversation.

"Er," Crowley said, looking at Aziraphale. Aziraphale bit his lip, fighting back a laugh. Crowley tried not to smile.

"Perfectly horrendous, if you want to know," grinned Aziraphale. "Hell on Earth, really."

"Well, yes, I suppose it was." Lindsey said thoughtfully. "Now that I put it all together, it makes sense."

"What do you mean?" Crowley said blankly.

"The Apocalypse has got to take something out of you," Lindsey said seriously. "Especially for you two."

"My dear," Aziraphale said uncomfortably, "Are you sure you are in your right mind?"

"Please," she rolled her eyes. "If you really paid attention, and cross- referenced everything to the Bible, it was rather obvious."

"Why was it more stressful for us?" Crowley asked suspiciously.

Lindsey took a deep breath. "Because I know what you are."

Aziraphale and Crowley just looked at each other. "And pray tell me," Aziraphale said dryly, "What, exactly, are we?"

"Well, you," she pointed to Crowley, who flinched slightly, "You're a demon. You are the demon, really, what with tempting Eve at the beginning of man and all. Yet you now just live on Earth, with no rank whatsoever, and do clever things to piss people off."

Crowley tried to hide his astonishment.

"And _you_," Lindsey proclaimed, "I had to work hard to figure you out. You're a Principality. You used to be a Cherub, and guarded the gates of Eden, until you misplaced your flaming sword."

"Wait wait WAIT!" Aziraphale held up his hands. "How the hell do you know about my flaming sword?"

"The Buggre Alle This Bible has been passed down in my family for generations," Lindsey explained. "I use it religiously."

Crowley couldn't help but snigger at the pun.

"But," Aziraphale stuttered, looking stunned, "This has got to be the first time anyone has ever figured that out. You must be a genius." He looked appraisingly at Lindsey.

"No, I just read," she smiled humbly. Aziraphale, if anything, fell in love with her more.

"But I want you to know," she said, staring firmly at them. "That what you feel is not wrong. God knows everything, yes? So if he was unhappy about the Agreement or your feelings or anything you would already know. So don't worry about it anymore. Because God will make sure you know if you're doing something wrong."

Aziraphale drank this in and wallowed in it. She was right. This brilliant little girl was right. He, a six thousand year old angel, was not able to realize what this seventeen year old human was able to tell him right off the bat. He thanked God that Crowley had met her.

Crowley was looking blankly at Lindsey. From the look on his face it was apparent that he hadn't really taken in any of that in the way it was intended. He had just heard 'God is okay with your little Arrangement.' If he later went back and thought about the conversation, he would remember what else she said, but now, all that mattered was-

"HOW THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT OUR ARRANGEMENT?" he bellowed. The table around them stared, and he lowered his voice.

"Crowley," Lindsey sighed, "I've known you for a long time. I've gone clubbing with you. You say things when you're drunk that you don't mean to. I just worked it out on my own. Now, I've got to go, it's my turn to watch the baby." She lightly kissed Crowley's shocked cheek and hugged Aziraphale, who whispered a quick 'Thank you' into her ear. She just smiled back at him and waved.

Crowley looked across at Aziraphale, his eyes wider than his sunglasses could hide.

"It's time to go feed the ducks."

"I can't see how you two would get along at all," chuckled Aziraphale, tossing a handful of breadcrumbs to the ducks. "She is completely not your type."

"When I first met her she was different." Crowley muttered. "Very different. She's changed for the good. When she rescued me from getting a new body, she was violent, moody, and nearly suicidal. It was the best I could do for her by calling Child Abuse. Her parents would beat her bloody every other night, and one time her father even broke her wrist. While she was asleep I wished it healed, because the one thing back then that took her away from the awful life she had was her music. And she couldn't play without a hand."

"It's difficult to imagine her like that," Aziraphale cringed. "She's so optimistic now."

"She went through years of vigorous therapy," Crowley nodded. "She's one of the strongest people I know."

"And one of the most intelligent," the angel remarked.

"Almost on par with you, angel," Crowley laughed, chucking a hunk of bread at a fat looking goose. It swallowed it in one bite.

Aziraphale's heart sank a bit. As much as Lindsey's words helped, it did not change the fact that Crowley would never be his. But at least now he knew that he wasn't so wrong, that God didn't think he was wrong.

"Hey, angel." Crowley called over his shoulder. He was bent down over the sidewalk. "Come and look at this."

Aziraphale walked over and peered at the scratch marks in the concrete Crowley was looking at. He blushed.

"C+A," Crowley mused. "Wonder who put that there."

Aziraphale determinedly stared in the other direction.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: sorry for forgetting to write on my other two chapters. also sorry this chapter's so short. my dear friend is drawing pictures for the chapters which i will post when i get them. also, please review! i need to know if people like this or not. thank you to Raven Mosley for adding my story to her favorites. it made me happy.

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3

Crowley groaned. It was ten in the morning, and he hadn't wanted to wake up that early anyway. Yesterday had been a blur after Lindsey left. The demon was confused. He hadn't gotten what she meant about _feelings_. Humans and their feelings. What a load of rabbit dung.

He grudgingly made himself a cup of coffee, anxiously awaiting Aziraphale's promised call. In the meantime, he mulled over that girl.

_How the hell did she know about our Arrangement?_ He growled to himself. _I'm pretty certain I never blurted that bit out when I was drunk. Hell, she shouldn't have even been to that club with me. She was under age. How did she get in, anyway?_

_Oh, _he remembered. _I wished her in._

He heard a car screech to a halt outside of his apartment. He vaguely wondered what idiot it was.

The door flew open, and a tall demon stepped through into Crowley's flat.

"Hastur." Crowley said, shutting his eyes and turning away. "What are you here for?"

"Just to check up on you, little imp," Hastur grinned, sitting down at Crowley's kitchen table and taking a drink of his coffee. "You're not the most trustworthy of us."

"I thought demon's weren't supposed to trust each other," Crowley retorted, finally looking at the Duke of Hell opposite him. Hastur's human form was tall, thin, and Italian.

"Well, no one down there's very happy with you right now," Hastur said casually, propping his feet up on the table. "What with you, oh, y'know, stopping the Apocalypse and all."

Crowley pressed his lips into a thin line and looked down at his hands.

"Also, we were wondering about you and that angel."

"What about us?" Crowley said quickly, jerking his head upwards.

"Well," Hastur said, toying with him now, "You two just seem so _close_. Angels and demons don't mix, Crowley. You know that."

"We're not close at all," Crowley replied doggedly. "He's just an acquaintance. I talk to him only because he's the only other being that's been here on Earth for the last six millennia. It gets rather boring. Of course, all he talks about is books, which isn't much better." Crowley attempted a grin and failed.

"Uh huh," Hastur drawled, uninterested. "Then why do you have lunch every now and then?"

Crowley stomach lurched some more. "I've been tricking him into thinking he's my friend for a while. He often gives me information on Heaven and what they're doing. He likes doing lunch, and I'd rather not blow my information source."

"Yeah," Hastur's lovely face twisted into a maniacal grin. "Good job, demon. I'll be leaving now. Keep your toes on the line."

And he was gone. Crowley heaved a sigh of relief and put his head in his hands. _Why today? _He thought. _Why? Today was going to be great._

_I need to stop thinking about Aziraphale._

Crowley realized that in a short, sharp moment. It blinded him for a second, then left his mind pure, blank, and made up.

_I don't love Aziraphale. He's my friend. My best friend. I don't love him because if I loved him this whole thing would go down the drain and I'd lose his company and also be taken off the Earth. I don't love him._

With his mind decided and his heart no longer pounding, Crowley got up and made himself a new cup of coffee.

Aziraphale never did call Crowley that day. He had somehow come down with a cold. He hadn't even known angel _could_ get colds. But there he was, still tucked up in bed with a box full of tissues and a stack of books. The phone was to far away to summon, and plus, Aziraphale didn't really feel like being disturbed right now.

At about two in the afternoon, he put down his book and sighed. He couldn't put off thinking about this for too long.

The matter of Crowley was that, well, he was Crowley. He was irritable, he was demonic, and he was the most loveable person Aziraphale had ever met in six thousand years. And the angel wished with all his might that he could tell him.

He fell asleep promptly after thinking that.

When he woke up, his cold was miraculously gone.

Aziraphale picked up the phone. He needed to just talk to his friend for a while, and then maybe he could forget about this mess.

"Hullo?" Crowley's voice grumbled.

"Want to get together for lunch today?" Aziraphale said pleasantly.

* * *

PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH! ENJOY THE BEAUTIFUL CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE! I LOVE YOU ALL! THANK YOU FOR READING!

the infinite David Tennant fangirl, Kitty 3


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: sorry for not uploading in a while. for my three fans, thank you infinitely! i never thought i would get this many! i love you all!

PLEASE REVIEW!

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4

Aziraphale munched his chocolate cake, staring over the rim of his glasses at the drowsing Crowley. The demon's forkful of brownie was halfway to his mouth and perpetually hung there, as its devourer had fallen asleep partway through the feast.

The angel couldn't help but giggle. Crowley looked so funny with his head resting on a fist, eyes just a flutter away from closing, mouth hanging wide open. Aziraphale thought he might leave him for a while.

The door banged open loudly. Crowley started, and his brownie fell back down to his plate.

"I assume that you did not get much sleep last night," smirked Aziraphale, amused.

"No," Crowley said, reaching over and taking a bite of the angel's cake. He chewed it slowly. "I was up all night and then our dear friend Hastur dropped by for a visit."

"Hastur?" Aziraphale said, sounding worried. "Why was he here?"

"Wanted to check up on me," the demon sighed. "He was also wondering what we were doing getting together all the time. I had to lie through my teeth to get him to go away."

"What did you have to say?" Aziraphale probed, interested. But the little bubble of worry in his belly was not punctured yet.

"I told him I'd been tricking you into being my friend for the past few millennia and that you gave me information, while thinking that you could trust me. He lapped it up."

Aziraphale grinned. "Nice. That's almost exactly what I said to Gabriel when he came calling a while ago."

"You didn't tell me that!" Crowley spluttered, slamming his drink down so hard on the table it flew everywhere.

"Well, I didn't realize it was real until just yesterday." Aziraphale apologized. "It was one of those days when I was really out of it. I thought I had fallen asleep and had dreamed it all. But when he sent me a message about the meeting we'd had a few days ago, I remembered it."

One of Crowley's rare, evil grins, spread across his face, and the demon began laughing so hard Aziraphale almost thought he would cry.

"You thought it was a _dream?_" Crowley howled, clutching his stomach. "Angel, I swear, it was worth getting up this morning just to hear that." He finally quieted when Aziraphale, face beet red, shoved the rest of the brownie in his mouth. Crowley stopped laughing in order not to choke.

"C'mon," Crowley said once he had swallowed all the offending pastry. "Let's go to St. James."

They stopped by a French bakery to buy a baguette. Crowley stole a muffin as well, and as they walked down the street, he chomped on it happily while Aziraphale shot him withering looks.

The pond was not heavily occupied today. Only a delegate from Spain and one of MI5's top scientists were there, throwing black bread at a small family of ducks and talking in low voices.

Crowley and Aziraphale stood on the opposite side of the body of water, where the rest of the ducks on the pond had crowded around them. Aziraphale was feverishly throwing out bits of the baguette, while Crowley stood by and roared with laughter.

After Aziraphale had conjured up two more loaves of bread and had distributed them all, the ducks left them alone.

"Thanks for the help," Aziraphale grumbled, throwing away the bread wrappers with an air of finality.

"You're welcome," Crowley said, lounging on the park bench, arms spread across the back. "Come and sit down."

Aziraphale sat with a sigh. "It's nice to be back here. I would have missed it if the world had ended."

"Me, too," Crowley said with surprising gentleness. Aziraphale looked over at his friend, startled. Crowley was looking out over the pond with a soft look in his eye, his mind apparently far away.

"Are you alright?" Aziraphale said quietly, placing a hand on the demon's knee.

"Yeah," Crowley replied after a while, shaking himself out of a stupor. "There's just so many things I would have missed if, you know, the world actually had ended. This world really is so beautiful. It doesn't need the seas of blood, and the death and destruction. I think both of our sides would be sorry if that did happen."

Aziraphale looked at Crowley with concern. He'd never heard his friend talk like this before. He'd never opened up so much.

"Hey," Aziraphale said suddenly, standing up. "Let's go get drunk at your place. I think the time is ripe for getting wasted."

Crowley grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

It was roughly their third bottle of wine.

"Hey," Crowley slurred, trying to focus on Aziraphale's face. "Remember them dolphins? What ended up happenin' to them anyway?"

"All I remember is their damn big brains," Aziraphale hiccupped, his glasses at the end of his nose. "And thah- thah- wha' was it again?"

"They mate outta water?"

"Yeah, yeah, thah's it….."

Crowley looked at Aziraphale and groped for his face. He finally landed on his nose and tugged it closer.

"Wha choo got there?" Crowley said, madly rubbing at the angel's forehead. Aziraphale attempted to wrest himself out of Crowley's grip and failed.

"Wha? Wha is it?" the angel shouted, ripping Crowley's tightly gripped hand off his bleeding nose. "Wha's on my head?"

"Itss black and sshiny," Crowley' hissed, taking another swig of wine.

"You're starting to hiss, dear."

"Oopssss," Crowley grinned. "That happens when I get drunk. Cheerssss!"

They clunked their bottles together and drained them.

"Wha'ever happened to that proph'cy book that girl had?" Crowley buzzed, hand entwined with Aziraphale's.

"Burned," the angel said gloomily. "When the bookstore went up. Adam dint replace that, of course."

"'Coursssse not. He wouldn't want you knowin' what was gonna be happenin' to hissss world." Crowley drawled, taking another long drink of quality wine. His face was uncomfortably close to Aziraphale's, but the angel was so drunk that he didn't notice.

Aziraphale gripped Crowley's hand tighter, and miracled another bottle into existence. "Funny, though," Aziraphale mused, bringing the drink to his lips. "That Agnes didn't write another book of proph'cies. Woulda though she would. Woulda wanted to let 'Nathema know, eh?"

"Ah, we're better off not knowin'," Crowley dismissed it with a wave of his hand, nearly hitting Aziraphale in the nose again. "I'm glad I have no idea 'bout whatsssss gonna happen t'morrow. Then it'ssss more uv a ssurprissse."

"You really need to keep your hissing under control." The angel scolded, pushing himself into an upright position.

"Yeah?" Crowley growled a little. "Well, maybe you ssshould get yoursself disscorporated sssso you could get a better lookin' body."

Aziraphale pulled himself upright, trying to look dignified. "And what, might I ask, is wrong with my current corporation?"

"I'ss a li'l pasty," Crowley slurred truthfully, his eyes unable to focus on any one thing. "An' you're not very_ young_. Your eyesss are near ssighted, you're startin' to develop wrinklesss, and you're just a little _wide_ 'round the middle there, doncha think?"

Aziraphale stared in shock at his drunken friend. "No," he replied, his voice growing louder with each syllable, "I think my body is perf'tly fine, thank you! I like being pudgy, it keeps me warm! The wrinkles could matter less! Your opinion doesn't mean ANYTHIN' to me, d'ya hear that! DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHIN! AT ALL!" he was bellowing now, angrier than he had been in a long time. "ACTUALLY, I DON'T EVEN NEED YOU! AT ALL! YOU'RE JUST A LYIN' STEALIN' DEMON, THAH'S ALL! I SHOULDN'T EVEN KNOW YOU! NOW I'M LEAVING!"

And with a swish of coattails and slam of the door, he was gone.

Crowley looked at the place his best friend, his only friend, had been. His eyes widened and they started watering. Trying to shrug it off, he sobered up. But that didn't work, since now the reality of what happened hit him with the force of three trains.

_I lost him._

That one thought reverberated throughout his mind.

_I lost him._

And Crowley, the steadfast, fearless, emotionless demon, sat down at his kitchen table and cried.

* * *

PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH! ENJOY THE BEAUTIFUL CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE! I LOVE YOU ALL! THANK YOU FOR READING!

the infinite David Tennant fangirl, Kitty 3


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: oh my, i really did slack off. i'm so sorry. but here's the new chapter. finally, the title makes sense and the plot unfolds. thank to all who liked my story. i love you all!

PLEASE REVIEW!

* * *

5

Aziraphale slammed the door to his shop, storming to the back room and throwing all the clothing he could find into a suitcase. He grabbed a few books and stuffed them in there, too, in his anger forgetting to be gentle with them.

He triple locked all his cabinets of rare books, hid his personal belongings in a safe, and scribbled a hasty note if Gabriel came to visit again. It read:

_Whomever may come here,_

_I am currently on a journey to America, to the Midwest, to convert atheists. Please contact there. _

_Aziraphale._

He signed with his real name, for he knew none other than an angel would be able to get through his protections.

Still fuming, he sobered up, looked around the place, picked up his suitcase, and walked out the door.

He forgot to lock it.

Crowley dragged himself off the chair after a while.

"A club," he muttered to himself, "That's where I need to go. A nice, rowdy club."

He grabbed his leather jacket and pulled it on. He walked out the door and shut it firmly, not bothering to physically lock it.

He wandered down the sidewalk, going anywhere, preferably the nastier part of town. He would know it when he got there.

Sure enough, here came the clubs and the bars and the naughty billboards. Crowley allowed himself a slight grin. "He's done himself well, Lust," he laughed under his breath.

He entered a club named "The Dirty Devil" (oh, how he loved stereotypes) and ordered some wine. The club was loud, and the population large. It was perfect. He couldn't hear himself think over the music.

"Hey," a little blond sidled up to him, looking at him out of the corners of her big eyes. "Wanna go dance?" she fluttered her eyelashes sickeningly, and Crowley had to stop himself from looking disgusted.

"I don't dance," he said coolly. "Especially not with women."

"Oh." It was her turn to look disgusted. "Gaywad."

And she walked away.

_Not technically,_ he thought_. I don't have a specific gender. I'm just in the shape of a man. I do like it more. And I can't say I don't find some men attractive. Like…_he mentally slapped himself. _Don't go there._

He heard someone speaking loudly a few feet away. Very loudly, so as to be heard over the din.

"Whozzat?" Crowley muttered to himself, picking up slightly ethereal vibes. He turned to look at the speaker.

Crowley did a double take.

It was Raguel. Raguel was an angel. Not only an angel. _The_ angel. The angel of God. God's friend himself. This angel watched over all the other angels and saw to their good behavior.

And he was in a club called The Dirty Devil, and he was dead drunk.

Crowley sidled closer to his group, which consisted mostly of very pretty, very inebriated women. He could hear his words now. He summoned up some more wine.

"…..Yeah, and you know what ladies? You wanna know somethin' fantastic?"

The girls let out a coo that made Crowley's skin crawl.

"I'm," Raguel boasted, standing shakily and gesturing to his chest, "An angel."

Crowley jaw dropped open and he almost lost his grip on his wine.

"You don't tell…you don't…..angel….what are you.." he muttered incomprehensibly to himself.

"Really?" one of Raguel's woman companions asked. "A real angel?"

"Yeah," Raguel replied, slicking his hair back and putting an arm around one of the ladies comfortably. "And a high- up one, too.

"But you know what," he mused, looking up at the sky, "That isn't enough."

Crowley put his head in his hand. _You're already one of the highest- ranked angels. What more do you need?_

"I want to _be_ God."

Crowley looked closely to see if his eyes deceived him. No, Raguel really had said that. This was blatant insubordination, not to mention extreme blasphemy.

"Yeah, that's right," Raguel said, and with a jolt of horror Crowley realized the angel had sobered up. He was serious about this.

"I'm going to kill God." Raguel grinned. "Why should he get to have all the fun? Thousands of years, and never a different ruler."

The women were looking at Raguel differently now. They almost looked scared.

"And I will be the first in history to succeed." Crowley had to strain his ears to hear now. Raguel was speaking more and more quietly. It was time to interrupt. Crowley cloaked his demon vibes quickly and hoped that Raguel wasn't homophobic.

He pushed past the ladies and leaned close to the angel. "Hey," Crowley said with a sly grin. "Wanna go get some drinks? My treat."

Raguel looked appraisingly up and down the demon's body, coming to rest on his eyes. He raised his eyebrows. "Sure," he said in a deep, smooth voice. "How could I refuse?"

And with many indignant sounds from the women, he left with Crowley.

Hours later, Crowley groaned. Raguel had just left, and the demon didn't know if this would count for or against him down there.

But he was pretty sure tempting an angel was high on the list of things to do.

Tiredly he pulled his shirt back on, and cleaned up the mess they had made. Wine was spilt all over the floor, not to mention other things he didn't want to think about as he wiped it up.

He hadn't even really enjoyed it. It had been an angel, but it hadn't been _his_ angel.

After everything was cleaned up, he sat at the kitchen table with a large glass of ice water.

_I need to do something about this,_ Crowley thought. _Hell would never help me, they want God gone. But I can't let Him die. I really am a bad demon._

_I could just follow Raguel around for a while, watch what he's doing. Maybe I could avert it._

_And I can't tell anyone because messages to God go through Raguel first. Plus, no angel would believe me._

_No angel, _he thought, _except Aziraphale._

_But I've lost him._

_No you haven't. Go over and apologize. Then maybe he'll listen to you. Maybe he'll help you stop this._

_I just insulted him way past the normal!_

_He was drunk._

_He's never gotten that angry before._

_Well, no….._

_But I need to tell someone._

Crowley grabbed his coat and walked out the door again, sighing.

He took one last look at his flat, wondering if he and Aziraphale would ever be together here again.

_I really do love him, don't I._

* * *

PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH! ENJOY THE BEAUTIFUL CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE! I LOVE YOU ALL! THANK YOU FOR READING!

the infinite David Tennant fangirl, Kitty 3


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: mwa ha ha...the plot unfolds! a new character appears! (wait, i didn't plan on that...) Crowley becomes...different looking?

PLEASE REVIEW! THANK YOU TO MY REVIEWERS AND MY SUBSCRIBERS! I LOVE YOU ALL!

* * *

6

Crowley walked through the weather that had become cold so quickly, huddling his shoulders, trudging the familiar path to the angel's bookstore.

He stopped in front of the door and composed himself, trying not worry.

Then he saw that the door was unlocked.

Without any more thought to the awkward tension that might ensue, he rushed through the door calling for Aziraphale, worried that something had happened.

Crowley ran to the back room, nearly ripping the door off its hinges.

"Angel?" he stopped, taking in the silent room, the cleanliness, the aura of unlived-in-ness that had already settled over his friend's living space.

He paced the room and his eyes fell on Aziraphale's note. He read it in a glance and it sizzled under his gaze, eventually going up in a poof of flames as he glared at it harder.

"Damn!" Crowley roared, slamming his fist into one of the angel's bookshelves. "Why the _hell_ did he have to leave now?"

Then he stopped and thought.

"Oh," he said to himself, "Because I was being a jerk."

The demon sat down at the table he had gotten drunk at so many times before and thought over his dilemma.

_I've got to do something. But I need Aziraphale's help._

_No, you don't, you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself._

_No angel would ever believe someone like me, they'd think I was plotting something._

_But God could die._

_Do you think an angel could really kill him?_

_It's Raguel, he knows all His weaknesses!_

_True…_

_You've got to try and stop him. You've got to._

"You're right." Crowley said out loud, "I do have to do something. So let's do it."

With resolution in his yellow eyes, he walked out of the shop, locking it firmly behind him.

With a snap of his fingers Crowley's face plumpened, his hair turned grey, and he put on weight. Quickly he scanned the London area for ethereal beings, and came up with one surprisingly close to Aziraphale's store.

He walked casually toward the source, masking his demon aura as he went. As the being's feeling grew strong to the point of making Crowley scream, he stopped in front of a coffee shop and turned off his sensor.

Looking into the store, he smiled in triumph.

Raguel sat at one of the booths, looking a little haggard and drinking a coffee. As Crowley watched, the angel added something a tad bit stronger, taking a long drink and coughing.

Crowley entered the store and ordered a plain coffee for himself, sliding into a single chair close to Raguel. The demon blew on his drink, causing it to turn espresso. He took a large sip and smiled appreciatively.

Raguel had vaguely noticed the middle- aged man walk into the store, but he was more concerned with his pounding headache and the unwanted memories from the night before. And anyway, he was waiting for someone who was very essential to his plan.

He heard the bell tinkle and he looked up expectantly. He grinned, and motioned for the pretty young girl to come and sit down with him.

"Calla." Raguel smiled at her from under his dark lashes. "So wonderful to see you again."

Crowley nearly choked on his coffee. _She couldn't be here,_ he thought, _she's supposed to be locked up! She's dangerous!_

The girl just laughed, her voice like a clear bell, and entwined her hand in the angel's. "I thought I might be seeing you around sometime, Raguel," she murmured velvetly, pulling Raguel in and kissing him in a way that no one should ever see in public. But all the customers just looked away and blushed.

Crowley buried his face in his hand. _I cannot believe that she's working for him. Why does God still trust Raguel?_ _We're doomed if she's with him. Calla…the most dangerous immortal being in the world. Neither angel, nor demon. Of her own free will. _

"So," Calla purred, pulling away from a slightly dazed Raguel and drinking coffee that had appeared before her, "What do you need me for?"

Raguel studied her for a moment, before opening his mouth.

"Who's side are you on?"

Calla tinkled her horrifying laugh once more. "My dear, I believe you know that. God is my brother. I hate him with all my might."

"Then," Raguel said quietly, as Crowley perked his ears up to hear more, "Will you help me kill Him?"

Calla froze, a rare look of astonishment on her face. Then her visage melted into one of pondering, as she seemed to trace every slight line of Raguel's body.

"As God's only relative," she mused out loud, rubbing her finger over her lip in a terrifying and alluring manner, "I am His complete opposite. I am all that is bad. I strive to do all that is bad. But this…. this might be a little more than I can handle. For there to be a bad, there must be a good. Without him, I am not me. When are you planning on doing this?"

Crowley stiffened. This was what he had been waiting for.

"I don't know yet," Raguel said heavily. "I just recently found this ambition. I was going to ask you to help me plan it."

Calla studied him once more, a look of happy devilment beginning to override her cautious features.

And Crowley heard the three words he really didn't want to hear that day.

"I'll do it."

* * *

PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH! ENJOY THE BEAUTIFUL CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE! I LOVE YOU ALL! THANK YOU FOR READING!

the infinite David Tennant fangirl, Kitty


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: sorry i haven't uploaded in a while...busy social life :3 and sorry this chapters so short. tho i like it. thank you to all who read this. PLEASE REVIEW! THANK YOU TO MY REVIEWERS AND MY SUBSCRIBERS! I LOVE YOU ALL!

* * *

7

Crowley had followed Raguel and Calla back to the angel's flat, but once he had reached it thought better of himself and went to sit by a pond close by. Calla had said something to Raguel about receiving payment before they began to plan. Crowley shivered.

After a while, Crowley snuck up the side wall and put his ear to Raguel's window, magnifying his hearing. Then he rubbed the glass clean and peered in anyway.

Raguel was sitting at the table, looking distinctly ruffled. Calla came over with a pot of tea and poured some for them both, all the while looking dangerously beautiful and seductive.

Crowley took a moment to study Calla while the two inside sipped their drink in silence. She was slender, and very petite. Her eyes were large, a deep black, and heavily eyelashed. Her lips were smooth, fine, and blood red. All the while she emanated a dark glow, pulling you in, yet repulsing you beyond words. She was, in her own words, God's opposite.

Crowley remembered catching a glimpse of Him just once, and remembered a strong impulse to run away, even though the kindly man gave off an aura of complete acceptance and love. But the ex- angel had never actually wanted to get close to God.

"Wednesday," Calla said suddenly, looking up from her tea. "We should do it Wednesday. It's some sort of holy "convert the atheists" day, and the other angels should be somewhat preoccupied."

"Yes," Raguel agreed. "I should be one of the few to stay behind, it should work perfectly.

"But now," Raguel said seriously, "How, since you are his sister, can you kill God?"

Calla pondered the angel for a moment, running her finger along her bottom lip in a way that promised trouble.

"I've always thought," she finally said, "That what would kill him would be his cross. Combined with a flaming sword. They're two of the things people often associate his name with. But I don't know how you would test that."

"Me neither," Raguel grunted, "But will you help me build that?"

"Of course," Calla smirked. "I'll infuse it with some of my powers as well, to make it stronger. This will be so wonderful if it works."

Outside Crowley slid down the building, trying not to let out a groan.

_This is impossible. They're going to win. They're going to kill God._

_You still can't let that happen! Maybe there's something you can still do!_

_What, maybe run away with the weapon? They'll just get more supplies._

_Keep watching. See what you can do._

Crowley sat there for a minute, letting the sounds of birds and trees wash over him, scared to death on the inside.

"C'mon," he muttered to himself, pushing himself upright on a handy statue, "Let's do this thing."

For the rest of that day and into another, Crowley watched Calla and Raguel diagram, plot, and build. Their idea for the sword was ingenious, merely sanding down a metal cross till it was sharper than steel and melding it to the flaming sword.

Their plan was to attack God on Wednesday afternoon, at roughly 3pm, when most of the angel's would be out.

And somehow, neither of them noticed Crowley.

At the end of the second day, their weapon was complete. Crowley watched as they both stood back, admiring it, until Raguel said,

"Are you still going to impart some of your powers into it?"

Calla grinned a sick, twisted, gorgeous grin, and placed her hands on the sword. With a heavily concentrated look, she gasped, and a thin wisp of nothingness, nothingness so black it was like a tear in reality, flowed out of her mouth and into the sword. The weapon gleamed a frightening blood red momentarily and then went back to normal.

"Is that it now?" Raguel said, picking up the sword and examining it. "Do we have everything planned? All the power that we need?"

"Everything is in order," Calla purred, sidling up close to Raguel and stopping millimeters from his lips.

"Wonderful," Raguel breathed. He leaned forward and kissed her smoothly, her body arching up towards his, and before Crowley knew what happened she fell to the ground.

"What have you done?" Calla gasped, looking in shock at the great bloody wound through her body.

"There's no other way to test the sword," Raguel panted, cleaning the blade. "And you just might want to unseat me. I needed you for only a while. Thank you for everything."

And with an ear- wrenching scream from Calla, the angel brought the sword down on her neck.

* * *

PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH! ENJOY THE BEAUTIFUL CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE! I LOVE YOU ALL! THANK YOU FOR READING!

the infinite David Tennant fangirl, Kitty


	8. Chapter 8

**A/n: I am again blown away by the kindness of my readers. Never did I actually think someone would read and like this, and never did it even cross my mind that someone would miss it. I love you all more than I can express. Thank you for supporting me and the gods Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. Their beautiful characters continue to infiltrate my life.**

**On a different note, I've been GO fanarting. A lot :3**

* * *

8

Crowley sat at his kitchen table, a large wineglass in his hand.

He still was having trouble processing the scene he had witnessed mere hours before, and though he knew he should be getting ready for the next day, the image of Calla crumpled, a steaming mass, on the ground, would not leave his mind. Raguel had calmly cleaned her up, and went about his business of planning to kill Him. But Crowley barely managed to stumble home.

_Don't have a choice now_, he thought dully. _Got to stop him now. No way around it._

With a heave, he dragged himself up. He had to get some rest or he wouldn't be able to help.

Momentarily pausing to shed his coat and tie, he crawled over to his bed and fell into it face first.

_I wish 'Ziraphale were here,_ was his last conscious thought.

* * *

It was five o'clock in the morning, and Crowley was now officially doomed if he was caught.

He had stolen Aziraphale's robes from the bookshop and masked himself with the leftover aura of angel the Principality had left behind. He added a little more masking of his own. He got out the ancient, no- long- working flaming sword. He vigorously cleaned his wings.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

"I can do this." He lied to himself. "I will succeed."

Crowley headed out the door.

* * *

The demon probed the streets, searching for that one, small crack that would allow him in. Most angels didn't ever know about the hidden entrances to Heaven, but Aziraphale knew nearly all of them. Of course, he never told Crowley the exact placement, but he'd hinted.

Finally, there was the rift. With a held breath, Crowley tried to slip through.

A pleasant, warm sensation filled his stomach, as if he was sliding through molten chocolate. All at once, he was up there.

Heaven was different than he had remembered. Emptier, for one thing, but that was probably because it was "Convert the Atheists" day, and the angels were all on Earth. But it seemed…. Less. He didn't know how to describe it. But it wasn't the playground he remembered it as.

He saw the vague outline of what he knew was God's little alcove off in the distance, and flaming sword he knew must be Raguel "guarding" Him.

_This is it,_ Crowley thought, taking a deep breath. _This is your chance to show that you really do care._

He walked towards the alcove.

* * *

Hiding himself in a bank of clouds, Crowley could tell Raguel was as nervous as he, and also that the Angel of God completely trusted that no one knew what he was going to do. Crowley checked his watch.

"Five minutes to go," he murmured, turning his head ever so slightly. "Do you think he'll…" The demon looked back at Raguel and emptied his head of any thoughts other than his mission. _You can patch up later. If Zira'll let you…_

The angel twitched, and unsheathed the brand- new, once- used flaming sword, and held it up in front of him, steeling his core. Crowley waited with baited breath.

Raguel entered the alcove.

At a quiet patter, the demon followed.

* * *

The alcove was enormous on the inside, tiled in blues and grays. Crowley hid behind one of the numerous columns, and watched Raguel quietly approach the altar.

And there was the small, powerful figure of God himself, turned toward the sky, eyes closed, oblivious to the world around him. Crowley felt the same urge to run, but willed himself forward, sliding behind one of the wooden pews.

Raguel neared Him, and raised the flaming sword.

"You cannot kill me."

God turned, but no sign of surprise marred Raguel's handsome face. Instead, it twisted into an ugly sneer.

"In fact, _God_, I believe I can."

"And why do you think that?" God's voice was placid and calm, His face the same.

"Because this same weapon killed your sister." Raguel retorted, raising the blade above his head. And at that moment, Crowley saw something that frightened him more than he believed was possible.

A small look of fear darted across God's face.

With a roar, the demon leapt from behind the bench, grappling Raguel's muscular back, knocking the sword away. Snarling, Raguel punched Crowley hard in the face, surprise registering when the angel really looked at his adversary.

"You?" Raguel groaned. "I thought you were just an ordinary gay man."

"Nope," Crowley grinned in spite of it all. "And you know what else?"

Raguel paused, looking slightly wary. "What?"

Crowley let the masking come off of his eyes. "I'm a demon." He smirked.

And he knocked the Angel of God full in the face.

* * *

Crowley sat tiredly on the front pew, wings at his sides, hands clasped. He had hit Raguel so hard the angel had been discorporated, so now everything was being put to rights. But he still had yet to hear about his punishment.

He heard someone call to him.

"Sir! He's asking for you."

A young angel helped him rise, and guided him along back through the alcove and down into a different room.

"Thank you," Crowley felt his numb lips form the words, but he was still too astonished and shocked to feel anything at all. He turned towards the room.

Crowley jumped. God stood directly in front of him, not a foot and a half away.

"Uh," Crowley stammered, "Uh, I just, uh, well, I'll just be…going now. You're welcome and all, but I'd prefer to go back down to Earth and, I mean, uh, well….."

"Thank you," God said, placing His hand on the demon's shoulder. "Raguel may well have actually been able to kill me. I cannot thank you enough."

But there was a twinkle in His eye that made Crowley have a few thoughts.

"Like I said, thank you, but, shouldn't you be punishing me? I mean, I did steal angel aura, steal official Heaven garments, and SNEAK INTO HEAVEN. What are you going to do to me?"

'What are we going to do with you?" God glimmered. "Well, we were wondering if you wanted back your wings."

"That's very well and all, but…" Crowley's jaw went slack and wobbled uselessly around for a few seconds. "Wait….what?"

"Your wings. I am assuming you'd like to have them back. You would still be given the freedom you had and so enjoyed as a demon, but you will also be an angel, and have those jobs as well."

Crowley stood and looked at God for a moment.

"That's it, isn't it." he finally said loudly. "You're pulling my tail. You set this whole thing up. This is just some sort of joke to make me feel stupid."

"I am not lying." And the way He said it made it incontrovertible.

"Then give them to me," Crowley whispered.

God smiled benignly, and snapped his fingers.

* * *

**PLEASE ENJOY THE BEAUTIFUL CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE! I LOVE YOU ALLL! MY READERS, I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR ONE: ACTUALLY READING AND TWO: THE BEAUTIFUL AND HELPFUL THINGS YOU WRITE TO ME. **

**Kitty :3 **

**(if you could do a little emoticon of someone with deep black bags under their eyes, that's me at one thirty in the morning trying to write this for you)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/n: I am again blown away by the kindness of my readers. Never did I actually think someone would read and like this, and never did it even cross my mind that someone would miss it. I love you all more than I can express. Thank you for supporting me and the gods Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. Their beautiful characters continue to infiltrate my life.**

**Also, sorry about the slightly short chapter. I just felt this was a good place to end it. And now that I've explained the title, I can finally do the flffy stuff I wanted.**

**On a different note, I've been GO fanarting. A lot :3**

* * *

9

Everything was quiet and dark when Aziraphale returned. His shop was undisturbed, the lock sufficiently latched, and with a sigh of relief the angel turned to his favorite chair to curl up and read a book.

He jumped so high his hair brushed the ceiling.

"CROWLEY!" the angel roared, lying in a disheveled heap. "YOU HONESTLY HAD TO FRIGHTEN ME LIKE THAT?"

Crowley grinned widely, but quickly sobered and awkwardly adjusted his tie, determinedly looking at the floor. "I wanted to say…. I'm sorry for that last. You know I didn't mean it."

Aziraphale flared his nostrils and set to unpacking his books. "And how was _your _"Convert the Atheists" day?"

At this, Crowley laughed hollowly and said, "It's an unimaginably long story."

The angel turned around, his interest piqued. "I have time."

Crowley looked at him over his hands. "Pretty much I averted the death of God."

They sat in stunned silence. Then Aziraphale began to giggle. "You," he chortled, "Are the worst tease in the WORLD."

Crowley didn't smile. "I wasn't kidding."

Aziraphale promptly shut up.

"Tell me."

Crowley sighed and explained. "I overheard Raguel, of all people, talking about taking God's place. So then he recruits Calla, bloody _Calla_, and I knew I had to do something. 'Course, you were off inAmerica somewhere, so I had to do it alone." Aziraphale squirmed. "They did this genius thing with a flaming sword, and then Calla put some of her evil dark powers into it. But they still didn't know if it would definitely work. So… Raguel tried it out on Calla."

"He _killed_ her?" Aziraphale interjected, clapping his hands over his mouth.

"Yeah,"Crowley nodded soberly. "So I disguised myself as an angel, used your leftover aura, and snuck up there after him. Stopped him."

Aziraphale stared at his friend.

"What?"Crowley said defensively. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"You _do_ care." The angel smiled widely, giving his friend a hug, which Crowley warmly returned.

"But," Aziraphale said, his face turning concerned, "Did they punish you for sneaking into heaven?"

Crowley did grin now. "The opposite, really. Let me show you."

And with a flourish, the demon stood and stretched his snow white wings.

Aziraphale felt his head implode.

"Wha- wha- WHAT?" he spluttered. "They gave you back your WINGS?"

Crowley looked injured. "Yeah. Why're you so worked up about it?"

Aziraphale just stared.

"Hey,"Crowley muttered, looking sullen, "You don't have to look like that. I'll just leave now."

The demon turned to go, and Aziraphale found his voice.

"No," the angel shouted, grabbing his friend's arm and pulling him into a tight embrace. "You- you're really-"

"An angel again, yeah."Crowley shrugged. "But not in my opinion, really. I'm just a demon with angelic rights."

The angel smiled. "You're right. You're never going to be a _real_ angel."

They sat back down, and Aziraphale summoned a bottle of wine. They sipped in silence for a time.

Crowley groaned.

"What?" Aziraphale inquired.

"I just realized,"Crowley moaned. "Since He knows everything, He would've known already that Raguel was planning on killing Him. I didn't need to stop the ruddy angel."

The angel pursed his lips and tilted his head. "I…..don't think so. Because He also knew that you would come stop Raguel. So He would be alright. You did the right thing, Crowley."

"Ya think?"Crowley looked up, hope in his eyes.

"Yes," Aziraphale smiled. "Most definitely."

"Then," the demon grinned, and there was nothing even slightly angelic in that smile, "It's time to get wasted."

* * *

**PLEASE ENJOY THE BEAUTIFUL CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE! I LOVE YOU ALLL! MY READERS, I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR ONE: ACTUALLY READING AND TWO: THE BEAUTIFUL AND HELPFUL THINGS YOU WRITE TO ME. **

**Kitty :3 **

**(if you could do a little emoticon of someone with deep black bags under their eyes, that's me at one thirty in the morning trying to write this for you)**


	10. Chapter 10

A/n: so yeah, finally got around to finishing up this story. I have a whole outline for some PWP of Crowley and Azzi, might get around to writing it. So here's the final conclusion. Should have finished it a long time ago.

10

_It was weeks later_, and Aziraphale was still getting used to the idea of Crowley as an angel.

It didn't really fit in his mind, not one bit.

But it was fantastic, having his friend back. After the row, their friendship had grown stronger than it had ever been. Crowley was still Crowley, and now Aziraphale didn't have to worry about Hastur.

They had skipped lunch that day, and had gone straight to the pond. There was only one lonesome irritable duck out on the mostly frozen puddle that afternoon, and it quacked gratingly at them, to the point of Crowley chucking an entire roll at its head.

Aziraphale sat on the park bench, wrapped in his parka. Crowley was blabbering away about something, he knew, but the angel's mind was on other things.

It was all right, now, wasn't it? To love Crowley? They were technically part of the same species, and what Lindsay had said about Him knowing everything…. The Principality reasoned he was relatively safe.

As to whether Crowley would ever talk to him again, nothing was set in stone.

But the angel wouldn't get a reprimand from Heaven, _or_, Aziraphale thought in horror, _Fall_. He wouldn't have to risk that.

But as he watched his yellow- eyed friend chatter away about the new CD player he'd had installed in his Bentley, the angel realized something.

Even if Crowley _was_ still a demon, Aziraphale would have told him. The jolt in his stomach told him he would have been willing to Fall for his friend many times over, and in both senses of the word.

Suddenly, Aziraphale jerked around to face the former demon.

"What?" Crowley asked, a hint of worry creeping into his smooth voice. "Don't tell me you're miffed about me throwing that bread at the bloody duck."

"No, no- NO!" Aziraphale laughed at the absurdity of it. "Of course not. The irritating mammal "had it coming," as you young people say."

Crowley stuck out his still slightly pointed tongue, an exasperated yet amused and fond chuckle at Aziraphale's use of the phrase flying through his teeth. "What was it, then?"

"I-" the angel paused, looking at the demon (_the FORMER demon,_ he reminded himself for the tenth time,) hesitantly.

"Could we maybe conduct this conversation somewhere more…private?" he asked Crowley.

Crowley's eyes softened over the rim of his sunglasses. "Sure, angel."

Cozily closeted within Aziraphale's back room, the angel took a deep drink of tea and a deep breath, and faced his friend, cheeks colored.

"Crowley, there are some things that I'm, well, afraid of." He started, mentally whacking himself on the head for such a silly first sentence. "But there are also some things I can't ignore."

He chanced a look at Crowley's eyes, those eyes he'd been avoiding, as he had watched the demon (oh hell with it) slip them down to the bridge of his nose out of the corner of his eyes.

The eyes in question were wide, questioning, and oh so _golden_. The angel blushed and looked away again.

After a rather long silence, Crowley gently prompted, "What can't you ignore, angel?"

Aziraphale looked at his friends eyes then, really looked, and, not knowing what to do, leaned over and kissed him, softly.

Crowley's unneeded heart stopped beating.

The angel pulled away. "I'm really terribly sorry. You don't ever have to see me again, if you don't want to. I won't try to get you back."

A slow, wide grin spread over Crowley's face, where it was turned to the ground.

"Well, I'm getting _you_ back," he said in a gruff voice, throwing his sunglasses to the side of the room and kissing the angel in a way he'd never been kissed before.

Thank you so much for reading.


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